


The Disturbing Murders at Keddie Cabin

by icantwritegood



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved
Genre: Keddie Cabin Murders, but hints?, not REALLY shane/ryan, you should probably watch that ep if you wanna get some of the references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-01 19:22:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12711345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantwritegood/pseuds/icantwritegood
Summary: Keddie is a quiet town.Keddie is a peaceful town.The Keddie community likes it like this.When Shane and Ryan threaten this peace, the town will threaten them back.





	1. Idle Town

**Author's Note:**

> I always loved the idea of Shane and Ryan getting a bit too interested in one of the cold cases they do for an episode, and then what might happen after. So here it is.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Ryan find something they can both agree on; the Keddie Cabin Murders are very, very interesting. Suspicious even. And with their combined stubbornness, who knows what might happen?

_There was always a few stupid kids. Some idiots who would come down to Keddie to visit it like it was a bloody zoo or something. Try and stay the night in the cabin. That was before it had been demolished, thanks to… Well, they don’t matter anymore._

_All that really matters right now is these two idiots wandering around the site, sticking their stupid cameras into every little space they could. One tall and lanky, the other short and stockier, like they were a damn sitcom duo. Nothing new really, to see people fucking around out here._

_But something is different about these two. Dangerous, even. Maybe it’s the reckless curiosity of the tall one, or the pensive observation of the small one. Separately, they aren’t threatening. Yet, together? Well, bravado and genuine interest is a dangerous mix._

_I have to be careful, keep low. Don’t let them see me._

 

* * *

 

 

“It doesn’t really add up, though.” Shane ducked into the car, pushing back his damp hood. “I mean, you don’t question someone running through the woods covered in blood-”

“We discussed this. Yes you do.”

“-but the blatant, well, lack of interest from the police? Baffling.”

“Right? Even for the 70s, that shit is weird.” Ryan started the engine, glancing over at the cabins. Jesus, this place was miserable. The trees were still green, their barks brown, the lights were glowing a soft yellow in some cabins, yet everything seemed tinged with a damp grey. “I don’t like this place. I’m getting chills.”

Shane rolled his eyes, a gesture he had mastered since becoming the co-host on this show. “That doesn’t take much. C’mon. Let’s get back to the motel.”

Ryan continued staring out the window for a moment or so, listening to the light pattering of the rain on the car roof. Did he just see those bushes rustle? Well, they were all rustling a little bit. Should he mention it to Shane? Even if it’s just to get some reassurance? “Yeah, okay. Let’s get out of here.”

The town seemed dead. No one on the streets. Shops almost non-existent. They drove through it in almost absolute silence but for the humming of the car engine.

“Do you think we’re being watched?” said Ryan eventually, peering at the police station as they passed by.

_Yes. Absolutely fucking yes._ “No. You’re just freaking yourself out again.”

“I don’t know, man. Those two women we passed earlier just… stared at us. Like, suspiciously.”

“They were just staring because I’m ridiculously beautiful.” Shane cracked a smile. “Listen, there’s what, sixty people in this town? Does that even qualify as a town? I’ve been to parties with more people than that. They’re just not used to strangers passing through.”

Who was he trying to put at ease here? Ryan or himself?

“I really wish I had your mindset sometimes,” replied Ryan with a grin. “Really, what’s it like to just never give a shit?”

“To tell the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m…” Shane frowned, looking a bit down. “I’m not really sure how to describe it. I guess it will remain…”

“Don’t. Don’t say it.”

“…Unsolved.”

"Fuck you, dude."


	2. The Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan tries to not be interested. Shane loves peer pressure.

_These idiots. How long were they going to stay in this town? It had been two days now. The short one had gotten awfully close to the hammer yesterday evening. Too close. Any closer and I’d have had to, well,_  interrupt _._

_The tall one keeps glancing at my hiding space, that bloody phone recording the entire time. Perhaps I’d have to take him out first._

_“Hey, Shane?” It was the short one, poking around in the rubble. “Remember what Gamburg told us about the evidence he found?”  
_

_They’d been talking to Gamburg already?! The idiot. He didn't know yet. I grip the knife tightly, wondering if I should just end them now. But I know my limits; two young guys in full health? No. I’ll just have to wait. I’ve waited for twenty years now. I can wait a few more days._

_“Yeah? What about it?” The tall one finally looks away from the bushes I’m crouching behind. He’s trouble. More so than his friend.  
_

_“You think we’d be able to take a look at it? For the show?”  
_

_“It’d be a good addition, yeah. Let’s try it, anyway.”  
_

_Fools. Bloody fools._

 

* * *

 

 

A tape of the phone call that was never compared with audio of the suspects, and practically a confession letter, both essentially buried out of sight? Shane read the letter again, feeling like an actual forensic scientist with the rubber gloves on.

“ _I paid the price of your love and now that I’ve bought it with four people’s lives you tell me that we are through?_ ” read Shane quietly, his gaze skimming the page. “And this was definitely Marty Smartt’s writing?”

“Yep. No doubt about it.” Greg Hagwood seemed confident in his thoughts, a 180 degree turn from the former sheriff. “Marilyn told us so.”

“The ex-wife.” Ryan flipped the tape over in his gloved hands, studying it like it held all the answers of the universe. “She was friends with the woman who was murdered, right? Sue Sharp?”

“Apparently so.” Sheriff Hagwood glanced from one to the other, clearing his throat. “You can keep the stuff for tonight, okay? If you damage it at all, you’ll be in  _a lot_  of trouble. Legal stuff. Understand?”

“Of course,” nodded Ryan eagerly, taking the note from Shane and slipping it into his bag. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem. See you at eight in the morning. No later.”

“No later,” confirmed Shane, steering Ryan towards the door hurriedly.

“We’ve got to test this stuff,” said Shane the second the car doors were closed. “We’ve got to test that tape!”

“Dude, no.” Ryan gave him a stern look. “This show means everything to me. I’ve worked my ass off to be here. I’m not risking all that just because you want to play detective. No way.”

“Ryan, look.” Shane turned in the car seat, his long legs preventing him from doing so as casually as he had planned. “Ow. Why is your car so small? Anyway, look. You like doing all these unsolved cases, yeah?”

Ryan gave him a wary look, not liking the mischievous glitter in his friend’s eyes. “Well, yeah. Duh. And my car isn’t small.”

“That feeling, when you dig all those facts up and piece together a case, it’s a nice feeling, right? Like writing a great intro to a story.”

“Not that you’d know. But yeah.”

“Now imagine how it would feel to actually _finish_ the story.” Shane leaned forward slightly, all intense focus. “To solve the unsolved. The show would skyrocket! We’d leave the Try Guys, and Worth It, everyone in the dust! We’d be  _running_  Buzzfeed, Ryan!”

Ryan held his friend’s stare for a moment, swallowing. “Stop. Don’t do this.”

“We already have the audio of the six main suspects. We could end this entire investigation tonight! Heat up this cold case so quickly it implodes!”

“Shut up, Shane!” Ryan turned the key in the ignition with a bit more force than necessary. “I said no. We’re not doing that.  _You_  are not doing that. This stuff is just for photos.”

“I saw the way you were looking at that tape in there.” Shane grinned, settling back in his seat. “If that tape was a person you’d be right up in there already.”

“Gross, dude.”

The tape was on his mind all the way back to the hotel.


	3. Big Bad World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane goes for a walk that doesn't go quite as planned.

_It’s been raining for hours now. I’ve been watching their motel. Their car is still there. The one road out of this town is flooded. They were going to be here for another night. This is a disaster._

_I can see the tall one’s silhouette through the blinds of their room, on the second floor. He appears to be arguing, gesturing aggressively. They did seem to argue a lot. I’ve made nicknames for them, as I usually do. The tall one is Flannel. I was going to name him Obstacle, but that was too… personal. The short one is Cap._

_The blind suddenly flies up, and for a split second I think he sees me. I duck almost instantly (I’ve gotten good at this whole following thing) but I could’ve sworn I made direct eye contact. I wait. I wait._

_Nothing. I peer over the wall, keeping in the shadows. Flannel is still staring at where I had been standing. He pulls down the blind._

_I wonder which one will put up the bigger fight when the time comes._

 

* * *

 

Ryan waved a hand in front of his friend’s face. “Hello? You still in there?”

“Uh, yeah. I- Yeah.” Shane pulled the blind down, his fingers fumbling for the string. “You got the recordings?”

“Hell yeah.” Ryan sat on the bed, pulling his laptop onto his lap. “Can you grab the tape from my bag? It’s in the front bit”

Shane took the tape out, holding it in front of him. “Dude.”

“Yeah?”

“…How are we going to play this?”

It took a minute for it to click. “For fuck’s sake. Shit.”

“It’s only half five,” said Shane, shoving the tape in his jacket pocket and shrugging it on. “I’ll run down to that little place. The- I can’t remember what it was called. Power City? I’ll grab a cheap tape, uh, player. Is that what they’re called?”

“I think so? Anyway, are you cool with that?” Ryan smiled sheepishly. “I’d offer to go but… it’s cold, dude.”

His friend opened the door to the room, checking his wallet was still in his jacket pocket. “It’s fine. I’ll be quicker without your short legs slowing me down.”

“Hey, fuck you!”

 

* * *

 

 

Yup. It was most definitely cold.

Shane pulled his hood up, burying his hands in his jacket pockets. He stared at the wall where he’d seen the person standing for a moment, just watching. Was he waiting for something? Was he expecting the man - or was it a woman? - to walk out, hands raised, give themselves up for… for doing what, exactly? Nothing. Shane blinked; he was thinking like Ryan, for God’s sake. It had just been someone passing by. No biggie.

He adjusted his hood as he strolled down the dark streets. This town was tiny, but somehow it made him feel so  _small_. Maybe it the apparent exclusivity of the place; you were either born here, or you weren’t welcome. Neither he nor Ryan had gotten a single friendly hello since they’d arrived, which was odd, because Ryan’s cute little face usually seemed to just draw people in. Not around here, though.

_Crack_.

Shane whipped around, yanking his hood down so he could hear better. What the hell had that been? Probably a twig. Just a twig. Jesus,  _relax_ , Shane. It’s just a street. Just a town. 

But twigs don’t just snap on their own.

He had barely taken another step when what felt like a pipe struck him clumsily over the head. He stumbled against the wall, cursing loudly, clutching his head. Hands gripped his jacket, shoving him back against the brick, rough, angry. Shane lashed out, a fist hitting somewhere on his attacker’s body. Oh God. This was it. This was how he was gonna go.

“ _Ryaaaaaaaaan!_ ”

His attacker tore at his jacket with such force the buttons popped right open. Shane struggled against them, the person as tall if not taller than him, a balaclava covering their features. They managed to yank the jacket off one arm. They were trying to goddamn mug him. Fine, he should just-

The tape.

“Fuck off!” shouted Shane, trying to push the attacker away, bracing himself against the brick wall.

The punch hit him with such force his head hit off said wall, and he dropped to one knee, stunned, dazed. He couldn’t see through the eye he had just been punched in. All he could hear was white noise. Everything seemed in slow motion; his wallet landing on the ground five feet away, his jacket a bit further, the attacker disappearing down the street, running as if they were underwater. Something clutched in their hands.

The tape.  _The fucking tape_.


	4. Cabin Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane is sorry for a little bit. Ryan is pissed.

_Flannel had had his first taste of what he was sticking his nose into. I wish I’d been there first-hand to see it. Unfortunately, someone else had gotten there first. So, I’m not the only one watching._

_He had stumbled across the car park, clutching his jacket, calling Cap’s name (Brian? Ryan? Who cares?) like a little child. I can’t take him out now, not for no apparent reason. The tape was gone, I’d seen her run past with it, probably passing it to the next person._

_Ah, Cap has answered the door. It’s a touching scene, really. The little one hugs the big one, he looks like he’s about to cry. So they really care about each other. That could come in useful._

“What the hell happened?” Ryan guided his friend to the bed, sitting him down and immediately studying his face. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

Shane mumbled in response, touching his eye gingerly. He could see his reflection in the mirror across the way; his eye had already started to show bruising.

“Shane, talk to me.” Ryan crouched down in front of him, forcing him to look him directly in the eyes. “What the fuck happened?”

“I was mugged. I think.” He thinks? Jeez. Shock is one hell of a drug. “They hit me.”

“Shit, dude.” Ryan’s dark eyes landed on Shane’s jacket, the wallet poking out of the pocket. “They didn’t do a very good job. You still have your wallet.”

His friend buried his head in his hands, looking very small all of a sudden. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’m sorry.”

Oh no. Ryan could feel the worry bubbling up in his chest. “…Why? Why are you sorry?”

“I- They took it.” He kept his face hidden in his hands, looking like shame personified. “I had the stupid tape. In my pocket.”

Ryan’s body turned cold so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t die of shock. “Tell me you’re fucking with me. Please.”

Shane didn’t reply. Just sat there. If he hadn’t already been punched in the face, Ryan would have done it right then.

“Why did you bring the stupid thing with you?” demanded Ryan, a strange mix of anger and fear welling up inside him, a feeling he always got when it came to having a serious argument with his friend. “Why not leave it here? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“How was I supposed to know I’d get fucking robbed?” snapped Shane, finally raising his head to glare at his friend. “I thought that-”

“You didn’t think, Shane! You never think! You just  _do_!”

“Oh, I’m the one who never thinks?” Shane snorted, getting to his feet. “I don’t feel like arguing with you, Ryan. I think I’ve had enough aggression for one night.”

“You’ve ruined my career.”

Shane came to a halt, one hand on the bathroom door. Fuck. Was his friend right? Did he just bring about the end of Unsolved? “Oh, stop being so dramatic.”

“You ruined it.” Ryan’s voice was awfully quiet. “You, and your stupid,  _stupid_ decisions. Hagwood is gonna get us both fired. I always knew it would be you.”

“You know what I don’t get?” Shane turned to face him, leaning against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. “I was literally just attacked on the street, and you don’t seem to give a shit. But you lose your mind over some mumblings you hear on your stupid audio recorder on a daily basis.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is that you should sort your priorities out before trying to act like the sensible one,” said Shane sharply, in that tone of voice that always seemed to make Ryan nervous. “Now I’m going to go and wash the blood off my face, unless you have any other shit you want to blame on me.”

“Screw you, Madej.”

Ryan flinched as the bathroom door slammed shut. God, Shane was terrifying when he was angry. It was probably because he never really  _got_  angry. Well, if he wanted to throw a tantrum, Ryan sure as hell wasn’t going to be left out.

He grabbed his phone, grabbed his keys, and stormed out of the room, kicking the door shut behind him. Fucking hell, it was cold. His breath fogged the air in front of him, swirling into the night sky like ink through water. He could always sleep in the car… Anything but stay in that room with Shane.

But he found himself driving. Driving back out to where Cabin 28 once stood. It was pitch black, no lights on in the houses, a light fog drifting across the forest floor. What was that thing called again? Pathetic fallacy. That was it. Ryan swallowed, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut.

“ _Shane’s_  the brave one.  _Shane’s_  the badass.  _Shane_  makes the show fun _._ ” Ryan snorted, turning off the engine. He was sick of being viewed as the wimp in the show. “I can be brave, Madej. I can do this show by my damn self if I have to.”


	5. Pretty Late for a Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan makes a discovery. Shane gets a phone call. They set a record for their quickest reconciliation.

_He’s back. Cap is braver than I had assumed. He’s come back on all his lonesome, without Flannel. He seems to be talking to himself. He’s going down to the river. I have to follow him. He’s gotten close before, he might do it again._

_I think he’s found it. He’s crouching down, shining his phone light on the ground, digging through the mud with his other hand. Damn the rain for washing the dirt away, the dirt Mike had piled on top of the weapon. It had lain so close to the crime scene for so long, untouched._

_And this stupid little man was about to discover something he had no business getting involved in._

 

* * *

 

 

The mud made a wet sucking sound as Ryan finally pulled the handle free. He stared at it in stunned silence.

A hammer.

“You lost?”

Ryan started, spinning around so quickly he stumbled over his own feet. He shone his phone’s torch light up the small slope. A woman.

“I- No, I’m fine.” He held the hammer behind his back, hoping his stance looked casual. The handle was slick with rain and mud. “Just out for a walk.”

“Pretty late for a walk, don’t you think?”

He watched her warily; she was old, perhaps in her sixties, with a kind smile, and cold eyes. “I… I like walking late.”

“What do you got there in your hand?”

Ryan hesitated. “Uh… my phone.”

She gave him a slightly impatient scowl, before the smile flashed back onto her face. “Your other hand, silly.”

Keeping his face neutral, Ryan slipped the hammer into his belt, praying it would stay there. “Nothing! See? Just thought I saw a penny on the ground.”

The woman kept the smile plastered on her face, not taking her eyes from his. Her hands were clasped behind her back. “I’d advise you to go inside, dear. The woods can be a scary place at night.”

He stayed where he was, keeping the torch on her. “You know what? That’s a good idea. I’m gonna do that.”

She waited, seemingly oblivious to the rain plastering her grey hair to her pale face. The wet made her hair look black. “You don’t look familiar. You’re not from around here.”

What the hell did she want? “Uh, nope. Just passing through.”

“Then I think you should keep on passing.” She paused for a moment, her face blank, before suddenly bursting out laughing. Ryan forced a smile that looked like more of a grimace. “Go on, get gone.”

He immediately obeyed, pacing to his car and practically throwing himself into it. He chucked the hammer onto the floor in the back, the tires slipping in the mud as he rushed to get back to the motel.

She watched him leaving the entire time, a pale face floating in darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Shane raised the phone to his ear. Wow. It had been a long time since he’d touched a phone with a cord. “Helllllo?”

No response. Just the sound of wind, or was it breathing? Both?

“Hello? Ryan, is this you? Because if it is, this is a disappointingly bad prank.”

Still nothing.

“Look, if you want to talk about what happened, I’m open to that. But maybe call me on my  _actual_  phone?”

“Maybe you two should fuck off back to whatever shithole you came from,” snarled a male voice. Then the monotonous beep of a hung up phone.

Shane stood still for a moment, the phone still to his ear. “LA isn’t a shithole.”

Who the hell had that been? He put the phone back on the hook, staring down at it for a while. That hadn’t been Ryan, although it had sounded a tad like his Jigsaw impression. What the fuck was going on around here?

 _Knock knock knock_.

Nope. No way. Not answering that.

“Dude! Let me in!”

Shane scrambled to undo the lock, yanking the door open. His friend hugged him instantly, hiding his face in Shane’s chest. Shane hugged him back, resting his head on Ryan’s, eyes closed. He loved the way Ryan looked to him for comfort; being seen as the brave one made him feel like he had everything under control. Even if he rarely did.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” mumbled Ryan, letting his arms drop back to his sides. He seemed panicked, upset, an almost helpless look in his eyes.

“Ryan. You’re not the one who should be apologizing. _I’m_ sorry. I was an ass.”

“No, I was too. I do care that you were mugged! I do! It’s just… Unsolved is really important to me-”

“Hey, hey. Buddy. I know.” Shane gently but firmly moved Ryan aside, shutting the door and locking all available locks. “Where the hell did you even go? You’re soaking. And… is that a hammer?”

Ryan was staring at the rusted tool, an almost dazed look on his face. “I… I found it. Near the river. I think this is evidence, Shane. I think it was one of the murder weapons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek if anyone is reading this anymore but damn this is fun to write.  
> Also, in case you don't know, there was four weapons involved in the Keddie murders; a hammer, two knives, and a second hammer that was discovered later in the case. I just altered the timeline a bit to fit the story.


	6. A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Ryan receive a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clear some stuff up; everyone I'm mentioning is real, but their actions are completely fictional, made up by me, here! Greg Hagwood is the current sheriff in Keddie, Mike Gamburg is the investigator on the Keddie case, and Marilyn Smartt is Marty Smartt's ex-wife. I couldn't find the therapist's name, but he too is/was real.

_Cap is a careful man. I thought that perhaps he hadn’t got the hammer after all. I hadn’t seen it in his hands._

_Flannel is not a careful man. I can see him through the window. I see the hammer in his hand as he studies it. My phone is ringing, buzzing in my pocket. I answer._

_“Any updates?”  
_

_I duck behind the wall, out of sight. “They have the hammer. The short one found it.”_

_“For God’s sake. And the note?”  
_

_“I haven’t seen it. We have to assume they still have it.”  
_

_“We take one piece of evidence away, and they get their hands on another.” He sighs heavily. “You should go home, Marilyn. I’ll be meeting them at eight. We can decide what to do after that.”  
_

_“Alright.” I hesitate. “If this doesn’t work out, what’ll we do?”  
_

_“It’s always worked in the past. No reason why it shouldn’t this time.”  
_

_I sigh. “You’re right, Greg. You’re right.”_

* * *

 

 

“The hammer stays in this room. In this drawer.” Shane closed the drawer in question, turning the key that accompanied it. “I think the one thing we can take from our separate experiences last night is that we’re being watched.”

“We’re not safe here, Shane. We should just go home.” Ryan peeked under the blind, his cap getting in the way. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the office.”

“It’s hard not to when you’re stuck in a place like this.” Shane joined him at the window, opening the blind fully. “Look, it’s stopped raining. That’s good, right?”

“It’s great. Now we can go home, how about that?”

“Hold on- Hey, that’s a nice car.”

A black Mercedes was pulling into the parking lot below, very flashy for a town like this. A tall, thin man stepped out, checking a piece of paper in his hand.

“Holy fuck, dude,” breathed Ryan, moving closer to the window. “I’ve seen him before.”

Shane frowned. “You sure? I don’t recognise him at all, and we’re together almost constantly.”

The man was crossing the parking lot towards their section of the motel. He was smartly dressed, in a suit and tie, a briefcase in one hand. “I- I think he’s the therapist. Marty Smartt’s old therapist.”

Shane moved to stand at his shoulder, squinting down at the man. “Are you serious, Ryan?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s him!” He turned to stare at his friend. “We are not answering that door.”

Shane didn’t reply. He mentally measured the distance he was from the door. He was faster than Ryan, no doubt. How could he not be. But Ryan was stronger, he could probably manage to stop him… if he caught hold of him…

He threw himself across the bed, scrambling over it. Ryan yelled a curse, practically running across the bed after him, catching hold of the back of his shirt. Shane rolled onto the ground, arms flailing above, slapping what he could only assume was Ryan’s face, the stubble scratching his palm. His friend cursed again, trying to push the offending hands away. Shane half-crawled, half-threw himself towards the door, Ryan’s fingers brushing his arm. He reached it, his hand missing the handle as Ryan barreled into him from behind.

“I said no!” Ryan pushed himself between Shane and the door handle, breathing heavily. “You son of a-”

“Hello?”

Shane raised an eyebrow at his friend, panting for breath. “Who is it?”

“You ass,” muttered Ryan.

“I- I have something important to discuss with you,” came the voice from outside, sounding oddly stressed. “I think you’ll be interested.”

“Sure. Just hold on a second.” Shane gave Ryan a stern look, hands on his hips. “Move.”

“You’re a fucking dick. You don’t find this even a bit weird?” Ryan’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Like how the hell did he find us, perhaps?”

“I guess we’ll find out now.”

Ryan reluctantly moved aside, giving Shane one last scowl before opening the door. 

The therapist looked from one to the other, an eyebrow raised. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry if I interrupted anything.”

What? Ryan closed his eyes when he realised what they must look like; red-faced, breathless, clothes askew. “We’re not- We weren’t-”

“It’s none of my business,” said the therapist quickly. “I can’t stay here for long. I believe you’re investigating the Keddie Cabin murders?”

Shane nodded while Ryan shook his head. “Yep, we are. You got any info?”

“Yeah… I’m Marty Smartt’s old therapist. I’d rather not give my name, but… I have to tell you something.”

“Why not tell the police?” interrupted Ryan, hand still holding the door, prepared to slam it closed at any second.

The therapist gave him an amused look. “The police? In this town? Forget it. No, I want to tell you something that’s been weighing me down. It’s something Smartt said.”

Shane waited for him to continue, noticing how the man glanced back into the car park anxiously. “Go on.”

“He… He told me it wasn’t just him.” The therapist lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “He said it was his wife, too. Marilyn. He said she did it with him. She’s still here.”

Ryan gave Shane a concerned glance. “She lives here?”

“Yes. She’s guilty. I know he was telling the truth, and he never took it back, not even on his deathbed.” The therapist backed away, looking extremely uneasy, shoulders hunched, glancing nervously around the parking lot. “I wouldn’t stay here much longer, if I were you. Good luck.”  

 

* * *

 

 

_“You have the tape?”_

_“Yeah, I got it here.” He pats his pocket, a grin on his face. “Lanky fucker didn’t stand a chance.”  
_

_Hagwood sits back down at the desk, taking a deep breath. “They still have the note. We need to get that back. Without anything being traced back to us.”_

_Gamburg shrugs, sitting across from him. “I don’t see why we can’t just, well, kill them. Chuck their bodies in the river. Say it must-”_

_“Shut up, you idiot.” Hagwood turns to me, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know the room they’re in. Can you get the note?”  
_

_I smile. Has he forgotten that I’ve been covering up my own crime for twenty odd years now? “Of course.”_

_“Good.” He still has that pensive expression. “We need them to leave. Shane Madej is the key. Scare him, and you scare Ryan.”  
_

_“Leave it to me,” says Mike, getting to his feet. “I’ll scare the hell out of him.”  
_

_“No. No, we need to be more subtle.” Greg smiles, a slow smirk that grows with the idea forming in his head. “I'm meeting the two idiots in the morning. I'll bring Madej in for questioning about the missing tape. We’ll keep him in a cell over night._ Then _you can scare him.”_


	7. A Piece of Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast is interrupted. The Boys are split up.

Shane slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I text Quinta. I told her we’ll be just a bit longer.”

“You think they’ll be pissed?”

“Ryan, we’re _Unsolved_. We’re _The Boys_. We’re carrying Buzzfeed on our shoulders.” He sat back in the booth, feigning nonchalance for the sake of his friend’s sanity. “Look, here’s breakfast. Cheer up.”

The waitress didn’t even make eye contact with them. Just put down the plates and scarpered. Ryan poked at his food; he was hungry, but he just didn’t feel like eating. Nerves, he guessed. Or maybe it was the fact that it was seven in the morning. He noticed Shane pushing his food around too.

“I still think we should leave,” said Ryan quietly. Although the small diner attached to the motel was seemingly empty, it still felt as though every little word was being heard by  _someone_. “You’re getting too into this.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m reaching my limit.”

“You’ve got to push your limits, Ryan. Not just give them a little poke and give up.” He moved his plate out of the way, scooting forwards. “One more night. Just one. You and me. The boys, out fighting crime.”

Ryan tried to hide his smile, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m great.” He picked up his mug, taking a sip of lovely, lovely tea. “And the woman in that car has been watching us for the past forty minutes.”

Ryan dropped his fork, the metal banging off the plate, turning in his chair to look out the window. He froze. “Forty minutes?”

“Yeah. Since we got here. Actually, I think I saw the car last night.” He frowned at his friend, putting his mug down. “You okay, man? You look like you’ve just seen a - dare I say it? - ghost.”

Ryan’s mouth was dry as a desert. “That’s Sheila Sharp. That’s definitely her.”

The woman was getting out of the car, still watching at them.

“The sister?” hissed Shane, willing Ryan to look at him. “Stop staring, you idiot. Look at my face instead.”

“Why would she come here?” whispered Ryan, his eyes wide in panic. “Oh my God. She’s coming in. She’s coming over. She’s here.”

“Shut up.” Shane smiled at her, an easy gesture. “Can we help you?”

She was short, with dark blonde hair, and a face lined from years of worry. “Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara? From the Buzzfeed thing?”

“We prefer to be called The Boys when we’re together.”

“Shut up, Shane.” Ryan turned to look up at her, clearing his throat. “You’re Sheila Sharp.”

“I… I am.” She carried a chair over, sitting between them. “I heard you two were looking into.. what happened. I guess I do still have friends here.”

The two men sat in silence, waiting for her to continue.

“You’re in danger here,” she said finally, looking from one to the other. “I’m not going to lie to you. There are many people unhappy with you being here. This is an old town, very tight. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“That’s okay,” said Ryan firmly. “We’re actually going to leave-”

“Don’t.” She spoke quietly but fiercely. “I’d be doing exactly what you’re doing right now if I could. I moved away not just because of old memories, but because of old enemies. But you two, your show, could really bring light to this case again. National interest. I need to find out who killed my family.” Her voice was shaky, whether from sadness or anger, it wasn’t clear. “There’s people in this town who know more than they’re letting on. You have to be careful. But you can’t stop now.”

The waitress had reappeared, and was standing at the counter, distractedly wiping a glass as she blatantly stared at them. 

Sheila ducked her head slightly, her voice hushed. “The Smartts and my mother had… an odd relationship. I know Marty is dead. But not all the Smartts are. I haven’t seen Marilyn in years, but I know she still lives here.” She got to her feet, clearing her throat. “Thank you for doing what I’ve wanted to do for years.”

“Um. You’re welcome,” said Shane slowly. This was surreal.

“There’s one piece of advice I can give you in this town, boys, and it’s don’t trust anybody. _Anybody_.” She glanced at the waitress again, swallowing. “I can’t stay. I have to go.”

She paced across the empty diner, sharing an odd look with the waitress, who paused in wiping the glass to watch the woman leave. 

“What the hell was that?” said Shane, after a long moment of speechlessness. “Wha- That was insane.”

Ryan looked shaken, gripping the edge of the table tightly. “Did you hear her? We’re going to fucking die in this town! We are definitely,  _definitely_  leaving now.”

Shane gave his friend a warning look. “We discussed this.”

“Yeah,  _before_  Sheila fucking Sharp walked in and told us we’re going to die!” Ryan held his gaze defiantly. “I’m not going to be murdered out in this town, Shane. That, right there, was the final straw. We’re leaving.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we’re-”

“It’s my car!” Ryan got to his feet, shaking his keys to emphasize his point. “So get in.”

“Don’t be an ass, Bergara.” Shane followed him outside into the freezing air, yanking his hood up against the cold. “You promised.”

“Promises are fine until it’s literally life or death.” Ryan headed straight for the car, hands deep in his pockets. “I’m not even getting my stuff. You can- Fuck.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Shut up. My tires.”

Shane took in the sight of the slashed rubber, cut so deeply the metal was showing in some parts. “Ah. Problem.”

Ryan’s face was pale, eyes wide in alarm. “I’m going. To lose. My shit.”

“Shh. Come here. Calm down.” Shane placed his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Hey, buddy. I agree with you now. We’ll just… get new tires! And then we’ll get the hell out of here.”

“Oh, you don’t agree with me when Sheila Sharp pops by just to tell us our lives are in danger, but some slashed tires and you’re convinced?” Ryan rolled his eyes in feigned irritance, but he could feel himself relaxing at the touch of Shane’s hands on his shoulders. “We’re meant to be meeting Sheriff Hagwood in, like, twenty minutes.”

Shane made a face, turning back to face the car. “I don’t know, man. It’s always the police in movies.”

“What’s always the police?”

“The baddies. The corrupt guys. Do you think we should just leave a goodbye letter and bail?”

Ryan grinned. “You’re scared.”

“I’m allowed!” Shane glanced at the slashed wheels. “I mean, why wouldn’t I be?”

“She was probably talking about the old sheriff, the guy involved with the actual case. I can’t even remember his name.” Ryan shrugged, kicking one of the flat tires. “Hagwood and Gamburg purposely reopened the case. I think we can trust them." 

"If you say so. First, tires." 

"Agreed.” Ryan’s eyes shifted to something behind him. “Well, how about that? It’s Hagwood. He’d give us a lift to some garage or something, right?”

Shane didn’t like the way the sheriff was staring at him, all intense, not a flicker of a smile. “Yeah. Maybe." 

The sheriff parked up beside them, still not taking his eyes from Shane as he stepped out of the car. "Mr Madej, you have to come with me." 

Shane’s eyebrows shot up, and he was for once in his life speechless. "Huh?”

“We have reason to believe you’ve been tampering with evidence." 

"I- What? No." 

Ryan moved closer to his friend, a confused frown on his face. "What evidence?" 

Hagwood gave the shorter man an irritated glance. "The tape recording of the phone call regarding Tina Sharp’s remains, if you must know." 

"Why that?” This wasn’t right. “Why the tape?" 

The two men waited for a reply, staring at the sheriff’s blank face. 

"That’s none of your concern, I’m afraid,” said Hagwood finally, opening the back of the cop car and gesturing for Shane to step in. “You can either come peacefully, or I’ll have to use cuffs." 

Shane sighed heavily. "Well, cuffs are cooler, I suppose." 

Hagwood blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"Shane, come on,” muttered Ryan. His heart felt like it was fluttering it was beating so fast. “This isn’t funny. Just go with him." 

"Cuff me, sheriff.” Shane extended his arms, enjoying the baffled look on Hagwood’s face. “If I’m going to get a police escort, I want the whole package.”

He had to act like this was a joke. He had to. For himself.

For Ryan.

 

* * *

 

 

 _So Flannel sits in the cell, I sit in the room just next to him, and Cap is alone. I take Mike’s balaclava, putting it in my jacket pocket. I don’t need anything for a burglary, really. I wouldn’t even be doing this anymore if I didn’t have to. I mean, I_ am _sixty three. But the motel owner - Hannah? Anna? - she’ll let me right in to the room._

_I'll turn the place upside-down if I have to. That note can't leave this town._

_Cap will be easy to frighten. He always seems to be on edge; Flannel is his rock, his foundation._

_But take the foundation away, and who knows how far will the house sink?_


	8. Too Late to Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan goes shopping. Shane gets brought for a walk.

It had begun to drizzle again.

Ryan kept his hood up as he hurried across the street to the only garage. First, tires. Then Shane. Then they get the fuck out of here.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder, keeping his head down as he moved to the counter. Not that anyone else was in the shop. Did anybody even live in this stupid town?

“Hello?” Ryan pulled back his hood, leaning over the counter slightly to see if he could look into the back room. “Helloooo?”

They needed to leave as soon as possible. Hagwood knew about the mugging; why else would he have pinpointed the tape? He knew about the mugging, yet he arrested _Shane_. Something was off. Something was really, really off.

And if the town’s sheriff was in on it, how many others were?

“How can I help you?”

The voice jerked Ryan out of his paranoid thoughts. “Uh, tires. I need tires. For my car.”

The shopkeeper was short and fat, his face void of emotion. “Ain’t got no tires.”

Ryan stared at him. “You don’t have tires.”

“No tires.”

“You’re a garage.”

“We’re out of tires.”

"You’re… out of tires.”

“Yeah.”

Ryan didn’t like the way the man was staring at him. “Uh, okay. Anywhere else I can get, like, four tires?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

And that was that. The man disappeared back into the adjoining room. 

Oh God. Ryan stumbled outside, feeling hot and cold all at once. He was going to pass out. He was going to vomit. He was going to pass out in his own vomit. The family across the street was staring, watching him leaning against the shopfront. _Stop fucking staring at me_.

He needed Shane.

He took out his phone. 2% battery. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s not that bad, I guess. It’s no Eastern State Penitentiary.” Shane smiled at his own reference. Ryan would’ve liked it. He probably would’ve laughed out loud, even though it wasn’t  _that_  funny.  “It’s a bit cold, perhaps.”

He moved to the bars again, resting his head against them. “Hey, you know the way I said I wanted the cuffs? I only meant for the car ride.”

No response. Was anyone even there? What time was it? It was dark outside, he could see the milky white moon through the sliver of window at the top of the cell. He supposed he should sleep. Or just nap. Whichever.

He had just started wondering how he was going to sleep with his wrists bound behind his back when he heard the voices. He sat upright, trying to pick out words.

“…said it was empty…got it…saves her ass as well as ours…”

Why weren’t they turning the lights on?

“Hey, fellas.” Shane swallowed, glad that the two men probably couldn’t see the fear on his face. “Could I get a cup of tea or something?”

Keys rattled, and the cell door slid open, the bars neatly passing by one another. Shane got to his feet, backing away to the other side of the cell. These guys were not here to check on him. What gave  _that_  away was the scarves hiding half their faces. Fuck. Why did he have to choose the fucking handcuffs?

In complete silence, the taller man grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the cell door. Shane didn’t resist, knowing it wouldn’t end well. Shit, maybe it wasn’t going to end well anyway. 

For once, he kept his mouth shut.

Out the side door and into the drizzling rain. Across the parking lot covered with muddy rainwater, and into a large, dimly-lit shed.

Shane froze at the door, pushing back against the man holding him. “Hey, hold on. Hold- Help! HELP!”

The man shoved him into the shed, so roughly he ended up landing on his knees. Shane struggled to his feet, fists clenched as he fought against the cuffs. The metal cut into his wrists.

“We’ll leave!” shouted Shane, voice desperate, refusing to look at the knotted rope hanging from the ceiling. “I promise, we’ll leave tomorrow!”

The men didn’t respond. The smaller one cornered Shane, reaching for him.

Without hesitating, Shane headbutted the man directly on the bridge of his nose. He's not quite sure if he hurt the man as much as he hurt himself. “Ow! Fuck!”

The man cursed loudly, staggering back a step, before reeling forwards and striking Shane across the face so hard it was a wonder he didn’t black out instantly. He fell to the floor, ears ringing, vision blurred. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

He felt the noose being pulled over his head, tightening around his neck. He opened his mouth to protest, seeing dark red blood dripping to the wooden floor. For a moment, it was stunningly clear; the shine off the blood, the specks of dust on the floorboards. Then he was jerked into the air like a puppet, his breath cutting off instantly.

His lungs felt like they were going to explode. Blood roared in his ears, tinted his vision. He kicked out towards the nearest man, but he was just an inch too far away. For once, Shane wished he was a tiny bit taller.

He probably would’ve found that thought amusing, if he could even gather his thoughts at all. The more he struggled, the tighter the noose was getting, digging into his neck, burning his skin.

The fuckers didn’t even have the whole stool thing set up. Then he could’ve just gotten his neck snapped and all this would've been over with. This whole strangling thing was, well...

He just didn't want to die like this.

 

* * *

 

 

_I have to slap Mike across the head before he lets Flannel down. Idiots. They should listen to me. Keeping our innocence is a subtle art. You can’t just go around half-killing anyone who sniffs around._

_“I said I was going to scare him!” says Mike, all pissed off, as if he has to right to be. “He’s scared, see?”  
_

_Flannel is lying on his side, not moving. “He looks like he’s fucking dead, you idiot. Check him.”_

_As if to save us the bother, Flannel coughs a ragged cough, a sound that makes me cringe. “You’ve probably fucked up his throat. Get him back in the cell. Put your coat on him, he's probably freezing in that shirt.”_

_Mike and his friend know better than to ignore my orders. Everyone in this town does._

_At the end of the day, it’s me saving everyone’s asses._


	9. Reckless Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is pushed over the edge. Shane makes a move. The town is not impressed.

Ryan found himself by the river. Walking. Walking just to try and distract himself. He couldn’t go back to the motel. Not after what he’d found.

Their stuff had been torn apart, thrown around, anything that could’ve been broken was broken. His bag was gone, along with his charger, and the note. The note. He didn’t even care about the note, he didn’t care about the evidence. Not anymore. What he had really wanted was his charger. He wanted a phone that wasn’t dead. 

He wanted to go home.

The drawers were the only thing that hadn’t been touched. In a rush of adrenaline Ryan had bust the top one open. And here he was, strolling down by the river, hammer in his pocket. Why had he taken it, exactly? He had felt, well,  _rebellious_. As if taking the hammer kept him and whoever was tormenting them on the same level. It was an act of reckless defiance.

Maybe it was because he was hanging around Shane too much.

He just wanted to  _see_  him. Gamburg said they couldn’t let him have visitors, it was a serious investigation, they didn’t want anybody else getting involved… The investigator had seemed on edge. He was sporting a split lip, which Ryan didn’t question. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Shane was trapped in that small, ramshackle building, and Ryan couldn’t save him. No matter how much he wanted to.

Ryan came to a halt. His shoes were wet with mud, but he didn’t notice. Something was floating in the river, caught under an overlying tree.

The something was face-down in the murky water, but his smart suit made him easy to recognize. Sure, he had only visited them two days ago.

Turning on his heel, Ryan ran. He ran, and ran, until his lungs were burning, and his face was slick with sweat as well as rain. Then he threw up. Well, his body tried. He hadn’t actually eaten more than a bag of popcorn all day.

Someone killed the therapist. Someone fucking killed him. A few days ago Ryan would’ve suggested that it was an accident. The therapist slipped and fell. He wasn’t watching where he was going. But nothing in this town seemed to be an accident. 

Everything had a purpose. 

Ryan dropped to his knees in the grass, burying his face in his hands. The sobs wracked his body, shoulders heaving. This was too much. He needed help. He needed someone to calm him down. Make the situation less scary, make the darkness less dark. Make the bottom less deep. Make his weakness less… weak.

He needed to think like Shane would. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves, his fingers sinking into the mud as he forced himself to stand up. Rational. Be  _rational_.

He wasn’t going back to the body. No way. There was no point. 

He was going to get Shane, and they were going to get out.

 

* * *

 

 

Shane kept his eyes closed, hugging the black jacket around him. His throat was raw, a red welt where the rope had been. He could feel it when he ran his fingers around his throat. The skin was hot to the touch. The crusted blood at the corner of his mouth, dried into his stubble, wasn’t exactly nice either.

He wasn’t back in his cell yet. He remained on the shed floor, the noose swinging above him like a predator ready to spring. The woman had ordered the two men, one he finally recognized as Mike Gamburg, to cut him down and warm him up. This was just to scare you, Madej. You don’t get scared. 

But fuck it, he was terrified. Now he knew how Ryan felt whenever they had to stay the night in some ‘haunted’ location. 

He’d recognized the woman straight away. She was older, obviously, but her eyes were still the same; cold, calculating. Just like in the picture Ryan had shown him what felt like an eternity ago.

Marilyn Smartt.

He was slowly beginning to piece everything together while he pretended to be unconscious. Smartt was working with Hagwood and Gamburg to quell any real investigations into the case. She was scaring off any nosy teenagers, while the sheriff and the investigator refused any official help with the case. They were smart. Ha ha. Smartt.

He could almost hear Ryan muttering "shut up, Shane."

Marilyn had entered the room clutching a bag. Ryan’s bag. A heart attack  _and_ being hanged? Shane had wondered which one was going to end him first. Marilyn hadn’t specified whether Ryan had been harmed or not, whether he was alive or not. She just mentioned that she’d retrieved the note.

Shane risked opening one eye. It was only the unnamed man who was watching him now, smoking a cigarette at the door. Beyond him, the darkness was calling. Who knew that the pitch black night could inspire so much hope? And it was so close. Shane raised his head, bracing his hands on the floor. Slowly, so slowly it was infuriating even to him, he got to one knee, feeling the jacket draped over his shoulders like a cloak. At least they had bothered trying to keep him warm.

Ignoring the noose floating just in the corner of his vision, Shane straightened up, barely breathing as he stared at the back of the man’s head. Could he kill somebody? Could he watch as the life drained from their eyes, could he ignore their pleas?

Could he do it?

 

* * *

 

 

Ryan stayed just out of the streetlight, watching the station closely. Well, as closely as he could without his glasses. His contact lenses had been so dry they almost just fell out. He looked like a mess; clothes muddy, face unshaven, hair wild. Shane inspired. He smiled to himself before quickly wiping the expression from his face; now was not the time for smiling. He had to break Shane out. What do they usually do in movies? Disguise themselves? Kick ass? Definitely not just stand and wait.

He gripped the hammer in his pocket; odd how it now gave him such comfort. A weapon that could have been used to kill a family. Ryan swallowed at the thought.

The flurry of movement made him retreat back into the alley, breath hitching. A blurry figure was fleeing out of the station, across the road, heading for the woods. A blurry figure that was 80% leg.

He had to stop himself from crying out. Instead, he just ran.

 

* * *

 

 

_They have no idea that they just sealed their own fates. Made this town their tomb._

_Flannel had killed Davy. Strangled him. Mike is furious. I couldn’t care less; another idiot out of the way._

_The fact that Flannel actually had it in him to do such a thing had surprised me. It was funny, really, what this town does to people. Keddie brings out the worst in everyone, it seems._

_Greg has the whole force ready to go on a Hunt. It's been a while since the last one. Where had we buried them again? Somewhere in the woods? In someone's back garden? Doesn't matter now._

_I'm not joining them this time. I'm too old to go on a Hunt._

_I wonder if they'll bring them back alive this time. That could be interesting._

_I sit. I wait._


	10. One Hell of a Pickle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boys are reunited. Shane hates water. Ryan's height is once again a subject of scorn.

He could hear someone following him. He could hear the forest floor crunching under their feet, leaves rustling as they were pushed aside, he could hear them breathing. Or was it his own breath he could hear, rasping through his throat?

A root, waiting in the undergrowth, grabbing at his leg, sending him sprawling. Shane took a moment to stand up, eyes closed, breathing heavily. He felt sick. Physically and mentally.

His pursuer was getting closer. So close that the sound of branches breaking and leaves crunching seemed to be coming from all around him. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness. Every single sound seemed to echo in his head. Shane ducked behind a tree, feeling the rough trunk under his hands, resting his forehead against the damp bark.

Not now.

Not now.

 _Now_.

He threw himself sideways, right into his attacker. Well, almost right into him. Instead he jumped out a second too early, and his pursuer barreled right into  _him_.

For a second, he was weightless.

Then he was flat on his back on the dirt, the air knocked from his lungs. His pursuer tumbled on top of him, grunting as he landed. They rolled across the ground, locked together, struggling to pin the other down. They hit a tree, coming to a jarring halt. He could feel the dampness seeping through the back of his jacket. Well, it wasn’t technically his. Fuck it, yes it was. If he could murder someone, he could definitely steal something, right? 

Shane fought the urge to shout out; it wasn’t likely that anyone who heard him would want to help anyway. It probably wouldn't have been much of a shout, due to his throat still being fucked up. “C’mon, pal. You gonna kill me or what?”

Silence. “Shane?”

He lifted his head up off the ground, staring at the darkened features of his friend. “What the hell are you doing, you buffoon?”

“First of all, I don’t have my glasses. I was just hoping it was you.” Ryan could see the light shining off his friend’s eyes, feel his breath hot on his face. “Second of all, why is your voice so croaky? You sound like an eighty year old smoker.”

“Partially because you’re kneeling on my lungs. And the rest I’ll tell you when we’re not in such a, uh, such a pickle.”

Ryan got to his feet, extending a hand to help Shane up. His friend gratefully accepted. “They broke into our room. Took, like, all our shit, dude!”

“Yeah? Well, they tried to hang me!” hissed Shane, feeling the panic rising in his chest as remembered the experience. “They literally tried to murder me.”

“I told you-”

“Don’t say it, Bergara. Don’t say it.”

Ryan grabbed hold of his arm, taking a shaky breath. “Let’s- Let’s not talk about what’s happened to us until we get the hell out of here.”

Shane swallowed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s just go.”

“Where? Which direction?”

“Any direction away from this hellhole.”

 

* * *

 

 

They heard the river before they saw it, a dull roar. It was still a murky brown so dark it could’ve been black. In the daylight it had looked like tea. He’d never really liked tea. Shane seemed to down it like a drug.

“You think they have dogs?” asked Ryan, the image of the dead therapist flashing back into his mind. He struggled to get it to go away. “Sniffer dogs?”

“I think I saw kennels,” said Shane distractedly, staring at the land on the opposite side of the water. 

“When?”

“I thought we weren’t going to discuss what happened to us until after this whole experience.”

“Yup. We said that.”

How long had they been walking for? An hour? Two hours? The sky was still dark, a black nothingness.

Shane swallowed. “You know how they always get rid of sniffer dogs in movies?”

“Cross a body of water.” Ryan shared a wary look with his friend. “It’s gonna be cold, dude.”

“I know.” He began to make his way down the bank, sliding with each step.

“You gonna be okay with this?”

“Look, I know water isn’t my favorite thing, but getting shredded by dogs isn’t exactly a preference of mine either.”

Ryan joined him right on the edge of the water. He was already soaked through from his previous adventures. “I’ll go first.”

“Thanks, Ryan.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“I can’t really either.”

Holy fuck, it was cold. Ryan waded in deeper, his breath catching in his throat as the icy water rose to his waist. He could hear Shane muttering a curse behind him as he joined him, keeping a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. It comforted him as much as it comforted his friend.

“Ohhhhhhkay,” whispered Shane as the river reached his chest. He could feel the current pulling at his legs, liquid fingers trying to trip him up. “It’s cold.”

His friend was oddly quiet for a moment. “Stop. Stop walking.”

“What? Why?”

Another pause. “I… It’s too deep.”

Shane clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from bursting out laughing. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. I saw a sign back there saying ‘you must be five feet tall to swim here’.”

“You know what- Fuck you, dude!” Ryan kept his head tilted up, the water lapping at his chin. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s kind of funny.” Shane paused, a grin spreading across his face. “Does this mean I have to carry you?”

He heard his friend sigh heavily, frustration clear in his voice. “I honestly think I’d rather just drown.” He hesitated. “Maybe you could, well, just drag me or something?”

“It’s either I carry you or you get left behind, pal.”

“Really? You want to humiliate me even in a situation like this?”

“Yes. Absolutely. This is a golden opportunity for me.”

A distant bark made them both shut up. Then another. And another. They didn’t sound like they were getting closer, but it was still too close for comfort.

Shane bent down in the water, swiftly scooping Ryan up and pushing forwards into the water. He felt his friend’s arm tighten around his neck.

“Stop it,” hissed Ryan, his voice shaking. “There’s someone. On the bank.”

Shane froze. He was suddenly very grateful for the river’s constant noise. “Torch?”

“I think it’s a phone light. Oh, they just threw it into the river.”

A phone? Oh, for fuck’s sake. “If that was my phone, I’m going to be very,  _very_ pissed.”

“Huh?”

“My phone was in my jacket. They took my jacket at the station. I had just bought that-”

“Shh, shut your stupid mouth.” Ryan watched the dark silhouette move back up the river bank; it looked familiar, for some reason. A memory tickled the back of his mind. “Right. They’re gone.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Mike drags the body from the water. “Just that councilor who ratted on us. Those two idiots must still be out there.”_

_I shine my torch on the man’s bloated face. Drowned bodies were always so strange, like a distorted painting. “Just leave him. We can bury him once we’re done with the other two.”_

_Mike gets to his feet. “Marilyn sure is thorough, ain’t she?”_

_“She has to be, Mike. Otherwise she’d be walking the green mile to ol’ Sparky.” I turn back to the force, their faces all awaiting my orders. They were so eager. A Hunt always has that effect on people, me included. “Where are the dogs?”  
_

_“Wilson and Harrison are bringing them back to the station. Said that the guys we’re after must’ve crossed here.”  
_

_“Crossed the river.” I glance up at the sky; it was getting light, a crisp grey, a few stars still sprinkled through the clouds. “Right. We’ll break for an hour or so. We can afford a nap. Wilson and Harrison can head out before us with the dogs. Let them know.”  
_

_I raise my voice so the entire force can hear me. “Alert the town. Hide anything,_ anything _, that could give away what we have been doing here. Meet back at the station in two hours.”_

_“Yes, sheriff.”  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna take a break from writing this for a while; exams and shit. Sorry!!


	11. The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Shane find a sign of civilization. It slaps them in the face.

 

 

 

 

Ryan opened his eyes, slowly at first. He could see a blurry face a few inches away, feel an arm resting across his waist.  _Ah,_   _Helen_. Wait, wait, nope. That’s Shane. Ryan’s eyes flew open as it all came back, as he realized where he was. 

It was a dry morning, at least. The forest floor hadn’t been that bad to sleep on (he slept in dingy, haunted basements, sure) and Shane had insisted that they sleep close together for warmth. Perhaps that had been the reason. Ryan hadn’t protested, anyway.

Shane’s gaze was flickering behind his eyelids, a slight frown on his face. It was weird, seeing the movement of his eyes as he was sleeping. Ryan sat up, taking a deep breath in. Why was it always so damn cold around here? He had no idea what time it was. Morning? Afternoon? Did it even matter right now?

A distressed mumble from Shane made him jump. “Hey, dude. Dude, wake up.”

His friend’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice. Or it could have been the slap. “Fucking- Just shake me! You don’t need to hit me!”

“We need to keep going.”

Shane groaned, stiffly pushing himself to his feet. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m fucking ravenous, Shane. But we don’t have anything to eat.”

“What about berries or something?”

Ryan stood up, dusting himself off; ugh, his clothes were still damp. “I’m not coming all this way just to die by eating a bad berry, dude.”

“That’s a fair point.” Shane glanced around; the dim grey light filtered through the few leaves left on the trees. A real autumnal picture. He would’ve appreciated it more if he wasn’t so hungry. “Let’s just… walk, I guess.”

“What if we found a rabbit or something?” His friend grimaced. “I don’t know if I’d be able to kill a rabbit. They’re so cute.”

Please don’t talk about killing. He had to change the subject. “A bear wouldn’t hesitate.”

“That’s because a bear is the most dangerous predator in the entire world. We’ve discussed this.”

“You think there’s bears in these here woods?”

“Shut up, Shane.” He sniffed, shoving his hands into his pockets as they trudged through the trees. “There’s no bears in California anymore, anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure there is.”

“You’re just saying that. I Googled it before. The last one was shot in the 1920s.”

“If you say so, pal.” 

They walked for a few minutes in silence, never straying more than a meter away from the other. Ryan kept his hands shoved in his pockets. It would've been a lot more comforting if it wasn't for the stupid hammer. Maybe he should tell Shane about it, about what he found. And the therapist. He just wanted to fill the silence with _something_.

"Hey, Shane-"

"Ryan, I have to-"

They glanced at each other, coming to a halt. Shane smiled weakly.

"You go first," he said, turning to face his friend directly.

Ryan shook his head. "No, you."

"I- Okay." He swallowed, avoiding Ryan's eyes. "I just want to say I'm sorry."

Ryan frowned at him, puzzled. "Huh?"

"I'm sorry for this. It's my fault that we're still here, that what's happening is happening. I never _listen_. If I had just _listened_ to you, if we had done what you wanted, we wouldn't-"

"Hey, no. Shut up." Ryan placed a hand on his friend's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't."

Shane stared down at him, his eyes looking oddly watery. "I'm just... Sorry."

"I know. I know, dude." Ryan's hand went to the red mark around Shane's neck, a frown growing on his face. "What- What is that?"

"They-" Shane shrugged uncomfortably. "I'll tell you everything later. When we're not here anymore."

Ryan watched him walk on, his breath fogging the air in front of him.

 

* * *

 

 

_They’ve escaped, for now. The dogs can’t find anything; I’m pretty sure they’re not even trained. I sit across from Hagwood, staring at my hands._

_“There’s only one way they can go,” Gamburg is saying, all false confidence. “We can loop around, cut them off.”  
_

_Hagwood isn’t impressed, but he has no suggestions either. “Tell the force to keep searching the woods. Bring the dogs. Me and you will take a few cars around, see if they do what you think they’ll do.”_

_I should’ve killed Cap when I saw him that night. I should’ve just put my knife in him, and none of this would have happened._

_“Any suggestions, Marilyn?” Hagwood is staring at me, looking a tad hopeful, but attempting to hide it.  
_

_I shrug. “All they can do is walk. I chucked Flannel’s phone in the river last night.”_

_“Flannel?”  
_

_“The tall one. Don’t tell me his name.” It always makes the murders more personal if I know their name.  
_

_Gamburg straightens up. “I’ll bring the car around, sheriff.”_

_I sit while the station whirs into action. Not much else I can do. I always just sit. And wait._

_But what am I waiting for?_

 

* * *

 

 

Shane squinted into the distance, coming to a halt. “I.. I think I can see a road.”

Ryan’s heart leapt. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can see one!”

The effect was instantaneous; the two men ran towards the tarmac, all aches and pains forgotten thanks to this glimmer of hope.

“A car!” Shane pointed to the right, not that Ryan could see shit anyway. “Wave it down! Wave!”

They waved. They shouted.

The car passed by. 

For a moment, Shane was certain his heart had just crumbled into dust. Ryan was silent beside him, face blank.

"It's a road," said Shane firmly. "There'll be more than one car."

Ryan nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. We just have to be patient."

A few minutes later, and the sound of a car engine lit up the air like a thousand trumpets. Ryan dragged his friend out into the center of the road. The car was _not_ getting past them this time.

"Look, there's a few this time," said Shane, relief flooding his body. "One of them will have to stop."

Ryan squinted at the advancing vehicles. "Wait... What are those things on their roofs?"

Shane took a step forwards, his mouth falling open, but no breath coming in or out. "Go. Run. _Run_. _Run, Ryan!_ "

The police cars were flying down the road towards them, their sirens switching on one at a time, an ominous symphony that pierced the previous silence like a needle through skin. Shane had Ryan by the wrist, half-dragging his friend as he raced towards the trees. He could hear car doors slamming behind them, people yelling. Dogs barking.

They wove through the trees, ignoring the branches scratching at them. A lone spiderweb hit Ryan in the face. He brushed it off, for once not freaking out. What was chasing them was much scarier than a spider.

Shane felt a hard pull on his jeans, and suddenly he was flat on the ground, the air knocked from his lungs. He rolled onto his back, crying out in fear as the dog snarled in his face, all teeth and drool. The paws on his chest kept him pinned. He could see the first uniformed officer appearing through the trees, gun cocked.

And then Ryan came flying into his field of vision, a hammer gripped in his right hand. He struck the cop across the head without hesitation. The sickening crunch was almost louder than the sirens.

The dog leapt off Shane, barking angrily as it headed for Ryan. Shane scrambled forwards, grabbing one of its back legs, fighting to pull it back. It twisted around, teeth bared. The hammer caved its skull in instantly.

Ryan dropped the bloodied tool, visibly trembling. He looked like he was about to vomit.

"Ryan, come on!" Shane got to his feet, physically shaking his friend. If only he could do such a thing mentally. "Please! Come on!"

 

* * *

 

 

_The force have them surrounded almost instantly. I walk to the front of my men, taking in the picture. The two men are standing side-by-side, holding hands so tightly their knuckles are white, their eyes flickering from face to face. They look awful; muddy, disheveled, damp. Shane's eyes finally land on mine, his friend's a second later. They're silent._

_"You brought us on quite the chase, fellas," I say, looking from one to the other. "I was gonna just bring you back to the station, but then you killed Wilson. Now I feel like you deserve something a bit worse."_

_The small one, Ryan, shuffles in front of his friend, as if I don't notice. Shane is more blatant, simply placing an arm across the short one's chest and pushing him behind him. There's no point in trying to protect each other now, I think to myself. It's too late for them, for me, for any of us to turn back._

_"Separate them," I order, taking my gun from my belt and checking the bullets._

_This is the fun part._

 


	12. Marilyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Shane realize what might look cool in movies isn't so cool in reality.

He wasn’t sure which was colder.

The weather, the icy damp soaking through the knees of his jeans, or the gun pressed against the side of his head.

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, teeth gritted. Shane was shouting, screaming for them to stop, to leave Ryan alone,  _please_. In movies, they always portrayed last moments as slowed-down, dramatic, emotional. Instead, he found that everything was almost too crisp. He could feel the chill of the air on his skin, the light breeze through his hair, he could hear the leaves rustling gently from all around. If everything he could hear was so loud and clear, what would everything look like? Would he be able to see every shade of red in every leaf, every wispy cloud in the sky? 

He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. He couldn’t risk looking at his friend.

He didn’t want Shane to see how scared he was.

“You know what, Mike?” The sheriff pulled the gun away, holding it as casually as you’d hold a fork at dinner. “I feel weird without Marilyn being here for this. She’s always here for the executions.”

“Yeah, I was just about the say that.” The investigator shrugged. “She stayed behind at the station. Do you want her here?”

Hagwood looked from Shane to Ryan, a thoughtful look on his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I think she’d enjoy it. And another thing; we need to get those cars off the road. I know we have free reign back in the town, but we could draw in some nosy tourist folk if we leave the cars there.”

Turning to the other cops, Gamburg raised his voice. “Take the cars back to the station. Harrison, bring Marilyn to us. Tell her we have a surprise for her.”

Shane shared a panicked look with Ryan, his breathing shaky. His friend was sickly pale, a sheen of sweat on his face. The cops filtered away reluctantly, glancing back at the scene as they disappeared back towards the road.

Mike kept his hand on Shane’s shoulder, keeping him on his knees. “You sure about sending all of them away, chief?”

Hagwood spun the revolver in his gun again, distractedly clicking it in and out. “The trick is to keep them eager, Mike. If they miss out on the execution this time, they’ll want to see one even more next time. Makes them work harder.”

Shane turned his head away as Gamburg crouched down beside him. He could feel the investigator’s hot breath on his skin. Ew.

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” said Gamburg dryly. “You killed Davy. You killed my friend. So now you’re going to watch me kill yours.”

Shane glared at him in silence. He wanted to tell him that if he even  _looked_  at Ryan the wrong way, he’d be a dead man. But he didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice trembling.

“You killed someone?” said Ryan suddenly, staring at Shane with wide eyes. 

Shane shrugged awkwardly. “Well… Yeah, but like, I had to. Hey, don’t look at me like that. You just killed someone too!”

“I didn’t have the intention to!”

“Oh, but one thing led to another? It was an ‘accident’?”

“It was a heat of the moment type thing, Shane.”

“Mine was  _ten_  times more heated-”

"Bullshit! I-"

“Shut the hell up!” snapped Hagwood, standing between the two. “God, you’re both so annoying.”

“Oh, you think  _we’re_  annoying?” shot back Shane, giving the sheriff a flat look. “You’re not exactly a ray of fucking sunshine, pal.”

“Shut up,” growled Mike, giving Shane an impatient shake. 

“Well, he’s right,” admitted Ryan. “We’ve been here, well, how many days? Four? Five? And you’ve only got us now?”

“You can shut up too.”

Shane looked from one cop to the other, an eyebrow raised. “It’s a town with  _sixty people_ , fellas. You don’t even have a main street. And it took you the best part of a week to-”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Hagwood grabbed Ryan by the hood, shoving the gun against the side of his head again. Shane shut up immediately, eyes locked on his friend’s. “One more word and I’ll do it.”

Ryan swallowed, holding Shane’s gaze. He had always found something comforting about his friend’s face, about his friend’s presence in general. He needed it now more than ever.

“Hey, chief.” Gamburg nodded towards the trees. “It’s Marilyn.”

“Huh, that was quick.” Hagwood kept the gun against Ryan’s head, ready to go. “Right on time, though.”

 

* * *

 

 

_I’m not sure how long it will take for those idiot cops to realize it was me who drove past. To realize I’m not at the station. To realize that I left to come out here half an hour ago._

_Greg has Cap by the hood. I don’t know why I call him Cap anymore. He’s lost his hat. He doesn’t even look at me, just looks at Flannel. And Flannel looks back. Hagwood is staring at me, all expectant. For someone who thinks himself to be so intelligent, he really is an idiot._

_“Come on, Marilyn.” It’s Mike. Stupid, headstrong Mike. “Show’s about to start.”  
_

_The gun is heavy in my coat pocket. I take it out, the handle cold in my clammy hands. I remember the last time I felt something like it; the hammer, holding the hammer, back when I… when I killed the Sharps. Along with my then-husband. I feel the overwhelming guilt that I always feel when I think about him. About what I put him through._

_“You got a gun?” says Mike, grinning at me. “You wanna do one yourself?”  
_

_Flannel lowers his head, eyes squeezed shut. He thinks it’s going to be him._

_Hagwood is still staring at me. “You okay, Marilyn?”_

_“I’ve been waiting for a long time,” I say finally. My voice sounds so loud. So out of place. “Such a long time. I just never knew what I was waiting for.”  
_

_“What the hell are you talking about?” says Mike impatiently. “Just shoot one of them!”  
_

_Cap is crying now, trying to stay quiet. Flannel has his face hidden, but it’s clear that he’s doing the same. Poor fools. Poor, poor fools._

_“Come on, Marilyn,” says Hagwood, turning to me. “Kill ‘em!”  
_

_I raise my gun and shoot him clean through the head._

_Cap screams as blood splatters over him. Greg falls to the ground right beside him, gun landing among the leaves. Dead. Dead, just like the Sharps, just like the therapist, just like every nosy group of teenagers who have wandered into this accursed town. All of them, my doing. Me._

_I turn to Mike. He’s running for the gun Greg dropped. I put a bullet through his skull, too. He crumples to the dirt, like a puppet that just got its strings cut. Ironic, seeing as he was always just that. A puppet, with Greg pulling his strings whichever way he wanted._

_Flannel and Cap are staring at me, mouths agape, frozen still. Perfect targets._

_But I can’t do it anymore. The constant worry, constant guilt, constant fear. What I’ve been waiting for all this time, I can just give it to myself. I don’t need to wait for it._

_I don’t need to wait for the end._

_I place the gun against my temple and pull the trigger._

* * *

 

“Get in!” Shane basically threw Ryan into the car, scrambling in after him. The interior was still warm, the engine was still running. Hands shaking, he grabbed the steering wheel, slamming the accelerator. “Oh God. Oh, fucking hell.”

Ryan was quiet beside him, staring straight ahead. The sheriff's blood was splattered across one side of his face. His eyes were oddly glazed.  “Why… Why did she do that? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, and I don’t want to.” 

They drove in silence. For how long, neither could tell. Slowly, Shane reached out, grabbing his friend’s hand. He squeezed it tightly, eyes glued to the road. The road began to blur in front of him. He had to pull over before he crashed the damn car.

He turned to Ryan, watching his friend’s face closely. Ryan’s eyes were just as watery as his. A stray tear escaped; it dripped off his chin and onto the floor of Marilyn’s car.

Shane pulled him in, his own tears suddenly bursting forth, like a dam that had been holding back a flood for too long. Ryan hugged him fiercely, shoulders wracked with sobs. They stayed like this for a moment or so. It was as though they were stopping each other from falling apart.

“Okay, I’m good,” whispered Ryan, leaning back slightly. “You’re good. We’re both good.”

Shane managed a weak smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good, buddy.”

The engine grumbled back to life. They continued on down the road.

"Hey, Ryan."

"Yeah?"

"You're not gonna fucking believe this."

Ryan frowned at him. "Uh, by now, I think I'll believe anything."

Shane took his hand from his coat pocket. In it was the tape.

"No fucking way," breathed Ryan, taking it and turning it over in his hands. "How? Why do you have this?"

"It's Gamburg's coat. He must've had it in his pocket."

Ryan turned to him, an excited grin growing on his face. "This is huge, dude!"

Shane gestured at the tape deck in the car. "Hey, look! Throw it on."

There was nothing but a buzzing sound.

"What the hell?" Ryan forwarded it a few minutes. Still, nothing. "I don't- Oh, Jesus Christ. The river."

Shane let his head flop back against the car seat, letting out a frustrated groan. "The stupid river."

Ryan took the tape out, staring at it. "We almost solved something. So close."

"Here, gimme it." Shane rolled down his window, chucking the tape out into the grass as they sped past. "If it's useless, it's useless."

 

* * *

 

 

The office was going insane. They yelled questions, asking why they looked so fucked up, why were their clothes covered in mud, why had they stayed an extra four days.

They couldn't answer truthfully. They couldn't reveal what they had seen without revealing what they had done.

They shrugged off the questions as best as they could. Only the other knew. They could trust each other.

You see, they had promised not to talk about what happened until they’d left the town.

But they both knew they’d never talk about it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end of that. Yikes, amiright.  
> Also, it was SUPER FUN to write. I might do another one in the near future about the death of Gloria Ramirez because tat was pretty dodgy too. Yay!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [hammer me to the cross of my despair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161495) by [starrymellie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrymellie/pseuds/starrymellie)




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